


What Comes Around

by the_last_dillards



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Coming In Pants, Heavy Petting, Julian Bashir's spy fetish, M/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards/pseuds/the_last_dillards
Summary: Julian goes home with the Spy and lives to not entirely regret it.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 23
Kudos: 96





	What Comes Around

Julian whimpered, feeling totally out of his depth and remarkably, overpoweringly _horny._

This had been an all around bad idea. What the hell did he think he was doing letting Garak, _the Spy,_ so thoroughly disarm him with kisses and nips and soft roving touches that made him melt and go weak in the knees?

For one thing, he definitely should not have accepted the invitation back to Garak’s quarters. When the Spy had shown up uninvited and seated himself across from Julian at his table in Quark’s, there had been a million reasons and just as many excuses that he could’ve used to brush him off. But somehow, he’d failed to invoke any of them. 

Julian didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk to protect him.

He’d simply been bored and his attempts at finding someone to take home for the night hadn’t been going very well. So, he’d let Garak stay and chat him up.

He had thought— Well, at this point, Julian wasn’t entirely sure what he had been thinking, muddled with arousal as his mind currently was. But, he supposed, he had convinced himself that Garak’s insinuating words had some deeper meaning to them. Or at least, a chance of it. Another plot perhaps that his involvement was required in.

Yes, he’d been warned away from the Cardassian, but if there was something important going on, then Julian ought to at least investigate the situation, shouldn’t he? And if it turned out that Garak really did want nothing more than a little companionship—and who could blame even the Spy for falling victim to Julian’s irresistible charms—then at least Julian could say that he did his part in ensuring the station’s safety.

It hadn’t taken five minutes for Julian to end up in his current position; seated on the ledge of a viewport with legs spread wide to accommodate the width of Garak’s hips. 

He couldn’t complain at the outcome. Sure, maybe his fantasies of daring and intrigue would need to wait for another day but ultimately, Julian had gotten out of his visit to Quark’s what he’d come in for—a willing partner looking for some mutually enjoyable company.

Still, there were probably better partners for this sort of activity other than Garak the Spy. It was difficult to back up that thought up however when he was being so thoroughly snogged and fondled, clever fingers dancing up his sides and a hard mouth stealing his breath. 

Maybe that was the point.

This could all be a setup to lure Julian into a false sense of security before he was swiftly incapacitated and readied for interrogation. Or, God, what if this _was_ Garak’s chosen method of interrogation? To catch Julian off guard, get him close to the edge and then dangle his release over his head in exchange for Starfleet secrets. 

Well, Garak may tease and taunt, may keep him on the edge for hours, but Julian was plenty ready to endure it in the name of his duty to Starfleet. That was assuming he didn’t go into cardiac arrest first.

He could feel his heart in his chest, pounding frantically as his body tried to determine whether he was caught in the jaws of a predator or the arms of a lover. Or perhaps both simultaneously. It was everything Julian had dreamed of and more.

Garak separated their lips to press a line of hot kisses down his jaw and along the length of his neck.

Julian tilted his head to accommodate him, breathing hard. His diaphragm pulled with each inhale to force air in, filling the vacuum of his lungs before sharply releasing to force it back out, again and again. It was like he couldn't get enough of it. Each breath scraped along the inside of his throat, up through his trachea and with a dry brush of the pharynx before finally escaping. 

And all the while, Julian’s adams apple bobbing and throat run ragged, Garak continued his sensuous assault. He licked and bit softly from carotid down, unzipping and pulling aside the top half of Julian’s uniform when he reached it so that he could continue onto the line of his shoulders and clavicles.

Julian’s fingers clenched reflexively. The hand he had tangled in the Spy’s hair tugged on the strands in what had to be a painful manner, and the one on his shoulder dug sharply into the scaled ridge. Garak made a deep rumbling sound. 

Julian startled, legs tightening around Garak’s hips before he forced himself to relax. He gathered what bearings he could and began to stammer out an apology, only to be swiftly cut off.

“Don’t apologize on my account, my dear, _dear_ doctor.” Garak punctuated the words with nips. “Feel free to be as rough as you’d like. It only adds to the pleasure.” 

“Oh. Well, ah, _hah!”_ Julian yelped as Garak gave him a sharp nip. “I should probably warn you then that humans are a bit more, _oh,_ a bit more fragile.” 

Garak pulled away to watch his face with eyes that were sharp, accessing, predatory. 

He ran his hands up and down Julian’s thighs as Julian continued, “I’ll tell you if it’s too much, but um, nothing that draws blood, breaks bone, or anything like that, please.”

Garak gave him an amused smile. “Of course, my dear. I know how extraordinarily _delicate_ your kind can be.” 

And there was no way the implications of that statement should have sent a rush of heat through him and made Julian’s cock jump as it did. 

His thoughts from earlier echoed themselves, of just the sort of dangerous man he’d allowed to lead him home. The sorts of prolonged tortures he might yet find.

Those thoughts all disintegrated as Garak’s eyes trailed hungrily down Julian’s body to land between his legs where an obvious bulge strained against the confines of his trousers. Garak let a finger dip down to trace over its shape, eyes flickering up to give Julian a devilish look. It took a massive effort for him to stay still and not shove himself into the Spy’s hand or to pull him close to just straight up hump him. 

Finally, Garak took mercy and pressed the entirety of his hand against his crotch before leaning back in to lave at his clavicle. Julian let out an embarrassingly breathy sigh.

It was still mildly uncomfortable having his prick trapped behind unforgiving fabric but the newfound pressure was a blessed relief. He experimentally tugged at Garak’s hair and squeezed his neck ridges, pressing harder and harder as he grew in confidence. Garak growled against him in pleasure, pushing harder against him in turn until Julian’s head knocked against the window.

The window. God, what if someone flew past in a shuttle and caught a glimpse of him like this? He knew what the likely assumption would be. That he was being advantage of by the brutish Cardassian.

Nothing could be further than the truth. 

Still, Julian couldn’t help but to imagine what they must look like wrapped up in each other like this. Him letting himself be spread open wide and groped through his trousers, neck worked over, while he held on for dear life and used what little conscious ability he had to grip at Garak’s hair and shoulders. What would Commander Sisko or Major Kira or Miles or even Jadzia think? 

A part of him wished they could know. That they could see the way he’d seduced this enemy spy without even really needing to try, had driven Garak mad with lust. Maybe then they’d see what an asset he could be in figuring out the Spy’s true purpose here. He could be fitted with a listening device or entrusted to a wheedle out information during pillowtalk.

Maybe Jadzia would even be jealous. Enough so that she’d realize that she had in fact been developing feelings for him and act on them. (Not that she much seemed like the jealous type but surely a man could dream.)

Julian’s train of thought was completely derailed as Garak found his cockhead through his trousers and pressed down on it, seemingly only innocently curious, but making Julian yip in pain nonetheless. He got a murmured apology that he wasn’t totally convinced was sincere, and then the hand was back to kneading and exploring, giving his balls a fondle along the way.

They were both rather far too dressed for this, weren’t they? Not a single scrap of fabric between them had been fully discarded yet. It would be a shame to ruin perfectly serviceable clothing, and if Julian got to see a nude Cardassian body up close? Well, that was just a boon.

Julian had only been able to learn a little of Cardassian anatomy from the Federation databanks and his consults with Bajoran doctors, and already, he was sure some of the information he’d received was wrong. For one thing, Garak felt far too consistently warm to be ectotherm. (His running hypothesis, based on current limited data, was mesothermia.)

Whether the other information he had been given was true was yet to be seen. Julian considered it of utmost importance to find out if Cardassians were in fact gifted with hemipenes. For patient care purposes, of course. And if so, he would need to give one a taste for...chemical analysis.

Garak’s hand gave a particularly aggressive press against his cock that had Julian moaning and clutching all the more desperately. His hips thrust outside of his control.

They really did need to get undressed soon, or else Julian would be in need of a new uniform. (Perhaps that was Garak’s real goal here—to force Julian into becoming a customer like he’d been trying to wheedle him into for a few weeks now.)

How embarrassing it would be though. To come in his trousers like a teenager from just a little friendly groping and in front of the Spy of all people! That little display would impress no one and surely end his chance of any future rendezvous for information (or fluid) exchange. 

Julian opened his mouth to insist that they move the night’s entertainment elsewhere; maybe the bed or a couch. Anywhere that gave Julian the chance to disrobe a little and regain his wits about him so that he could give back just as good as he got instead of letting Garak do all the work.

But any words that might’ve flowed past his lips were stopped as Garak latched onto the front of his throat, biting down ever so gently with just the slightest of threatening pressure, laving a warm tongue over his skin. Garak continued with his touches as he did so, grabbing at Julian’s cock and rubbing it through the fabric almost possessively.

The teeth at his neck, the rough constraints of his trousers, the pressure of an insistent hand, the all consuming knowledge that this was _the Spy_ doing this to him, touching and biting and kissing as if they had all the time in the world to savor this, and this was a form of torture, and Julian wasn’t about ruin it by—

Julian came right then and there.

Garak worked him through it, releasing his throat to pepper kisses under his chin and pressing the heel of his hand against him until it was almost too much. Once he’d been rung out and begun to soften, Garak pulled away, stepping out from between his legs and leaving Julian cold and uncomfortable in his shame. 

This sort of thing never _ever_ happened in James Bond. Not even with the most wily of assassins who strapped him to tables and tempted him with strategic threats and touching to give up valuable intel. Evidently, Garak was more slippery than even the most beguiling the Russian SMERSH could turn out.

Julian felt heat in his cheeks and sticky in his pants but he swallowed the feelings down. There would be plenty of time to reflect and reminisce about his shortcomings later. For now, he still had a job to do. Garak hadn’t yet had his turn to finish and Julian would be damned if he messed up this part—what was arguably the highlight of the night.

He sat up straight and gave Garak’s outfit an assessing once over, looking for any clasps or openings. 

“Um, how do you…?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.”

Julian met those unwavering blue eyes, feeling stricken. Had he truly messed up the evening so badly?

“Are you sure? I know I— What I mean to say is that I don’t usually come like that. I’m really very good at sex. Normally. And just because I did this one time doesn’t mean that rest will be like that! You’ll like it. I promise. I’m told I’m excellent with my hands and even better with my mouth. Oral is...is my favourite part actually. I like making other people feel good. That’s why I’m a doctor, after all. Well, not quite like that. I don’t sleep with patients or try anything of that sort. It would be unethical. But I do like it when others are feeling well, medically and sexually, and so really, if you just give me another chance to prove myself, I’m positive that I can—”

Julian was aware he was rambling in his desperation, making things worse. He shut his mouth abruptly and cut off any more of his pathetic pleas to be allowed to suck the Spy off.

Garak was watching him with obvious mirth. “I’m sure you can.” 

His gaze gave an obvious dip down to Julian’s crotch, and Julian had to force himself to stay still and not snap his legs shut or check if there was a noticeable wet spot.

Garak continued, looking back up, “Still, I am a very busy man. The life of a tailor is one of endless trial.”

Julian’s heart sunk. 

“Oh, yes. Of course. Erm, I’ll just be on my way then.”

He stood awkwardly, ready to run out of the room with his tail between his legs. Was there something he could use to cover his groin? He still felt too mortified to check if there was actually any visible evidence—and maybe he ought to consider covering his neck as well in that case—but he could certainly feel the wet, cloying fabric sticking over his most sensitive bits.

Garak didn’t step back or move from where he stood, causing them both to stand uncomfortably close together and effectively trapping Julian unless he wanted to shuffle to the side to get around him, compounding his embarrassment.

“Don’t look so long faced, my dear. I assure you, I hold no ill will over your…lapse of control.” 

Julian nodded weakly and attempted to step past him, only to be stopped by a hand against his chest.

Garak continued, “In fact, to show my continued regard, why don’t you stop by my shop sometime this week and I’ll fit all your uniforms free of charge? I can’t bear to see them sagging on such a handsome frame.”

“That’s very kind of you. But I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your generosity. Starfleet does pay those of us living outside Federation borders a very generous stipend.”

“My dear, I assure you, there are many forms of payment beyond credits and latinum. I'm sure you’ll be able to pay me back eventually.”

Those eyes, intense and blue, raked over Julian’s form, leaving no uncertainty as to his meaning.

Julian swallowed with a dry mouth, his limp cock managing to give a little jump to let him know its opinion on the offer. 

“Alright,” he agreed.

And with that he was freed to piece together what little dignity he had and scuttle home through mercifully empty halls. All the way back, his mind raced with the possibilities of intrigue and romance to come.

**Author's Note:**

> No such thing as enough season 1 garashir. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are fuel for the creative machine!


End file.
